Good Riddance, Rich
by Frannie Grace
Summary: It's all going well for George until a message gets left on his machine. (Sequel to Georgie)


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Disclaimer: No, I don't get the chance to take them home. They belong to Cynthia Saunders and NBC. I'm always willing to make a deal though. J

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Author's Notes: This one follows a few weeks after **Georgie**, and I recommend you read it before you read this. This one's from George's POV.

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Good Riddance, Rich

By Gayle F. Cox-Moffet

He's touching me, and he's making it into a regular-everyday touch again. I hate it when he does this. If he stops, I'm going to shoot him.

I was just sitting here typing, working, just like I'm supposed to do during working hours, and he walks by and puts a hand on my shoulder. Four days ago it meant nothing, but three-and-a-half weeks ago, he kissed me, and I kissed him, and two nights ago, we went on our first date.

So, that hand on my shoulder is anything but innocent. Especially since he's sweeping his thumb up and down my shoulder blade.

"Hey, George, could you run a few names for me?" John's voice has this undertone that let's me know he knows what he's doing with his thumb.

"Stick it in the inbox; I'll get it to the outbox."

He's leaning in to look over my shoulder, and I swear I'll snap his neck if he gets much closer. It's moments like this I give thanks to doing a job that lets me sit down most of the time. 

"John, is there something in particular you need, or are you just trying to bug me?" I'm trying to sound annoyed, but I don't think it's working.

In response, he leans closer and touches his cheek to the side of my head. "Just curious."

"About what?"

Hand on my laptop, he just got a smile that makes most people blush on sight. Personally, I'm unaffected by it since he did it in the middle of dinner the other night. "Curious about when we're going out again."

"Why would you be so curious?" I don't usually play dumb, but for some reason, it's fun with John.

"Because I want to get to third base."

Damn, I'm going to have to wipe down the table. My coffee just went everywhere. First though, I better wipe my mouth and remember to breathe.

"You okay, George?" Bailey's voice carries slight concern at my appearance.

I can only imagine what I look like. For one, there's coffee dribbling down my chin, for another, I'm coughing and sputtering from said coffee becoming a table cleaner, and John's thumb is still doing that thing across my shoulder blade.

"Fine-(cough)-Bailey. (Cough)-I'm fine."

"Next time try swallowing."

"Novel concept. I'll think-(cough)-about it." I sip my coffee again and throw John a look as he takes his seat across the table.

Bailey just nods and gestures to the video screen. "This is Lydia Adamson, she's twenty-four, and the third victim of someone who has a fetish for strangling with fine Italian leather."

I tune out most of what's being said as I start to work on what I know Sam will be asking for. Stranglers who just got paroled and other violent criminals who might have been accused but never convicted of similar crimes.

"George, see about any convicts who just got paroled for strangling their victims, and see about people who were accused but never convicted of similar crimes."

Damn, I'm good. "I'm already there, Sam."

She gave me a smile as Bailey started talking again. "We leave in an hour for New Hampshire."

Everyone got up to leave, and I barely noticed as John came up behind me. I did notice that thumb on my shoulder blade again. I jumped at the contact. "Something you need, John?"

"Could I see you in private a minute?"

I followed him to a vacant back office that was waiting for the next agent to take it over. The door shut, and then John was kissing me again. Oh, God, I was never going to get tired of this. He was so soft when he kissed, and it felt fantastic.

After another minute of kissing and touching and just plain groping, I pulled away and looked at him. "Something to keep me warm at night?"

John gave that blush smile again and nodded. "I hope so." 

This time I did blush, but it was from the heat, I swear. "I'll keep third base warm until you get back." 

Speaking of blushes, John turns a great shade of pink when I lower my voice an octave. I'll have to remember that. "I'll even wear a sweater."

Forget pink, John's face was starting to match his crimson tie. He had confessed to preferring me in sweaters rather than a business shirt and tie, and I had been waiting for the right moment to use that little bit of knowledge to my advantage.

"Dark green."

"Excuse me?"

John gave me a lazy smile. "You should wear a dark green sweater."

This time I blushed, but I smiled back at him. "Maybe."

He kissed me once more before reaching for the door. "I'll see you in a few days."

"Bye."

*

My watch was starting to blur in front of my face when I called it a night. I walked out of the building and decided a cab was better than wrapping my car around a tree in a moment of sleep.

The cab dropped me off, I almost crawled up to my apartment, and I was all for collapsing on my bed with my shoes still on when I saw the red light of my machine blinking. I hit the button as I peeled off my shirt and tie.

"Hello, Mr. Fraley, this is Anna at the phone company, and I noticed some odd calls on your bill I'd like to go over-"

I smiled as I hit the 'erase' button. How do you explain that the odd calls are an illegal device that calls back all telemarketers every five minutes for a week? You don't, so I'll act like I never heard it.

"George, hi, it's me."

Halfway to the fridge to check if the Chinese was still good, I stopped dead. I didn't just hear that voice.

"I need to talk to you, bad. It's-it's urgent. Call me when you get this, please. Oh, wait, you don't have my new number." There was some shuffling, and I vaguely remember writing the number down. Then the machine clicked off, and I had a sudden urging to get raging drunk.

I was off tomorrow, even with the rest of the team in New Hampshire, so drunk I would be. Changing into a t-shirt and grabbing my jacket, I ran like hell from my apartment.

*

"George! What can I get you?"

Caylee Jorsten is an old friend of mine. Her bar, _The Kitchen_, is the only one in Atlanta that I go to enough for the bartender to know my drink, my seat, and the latest blips in my love life. Caylee would be the bartender.

"Line them up for a long way down."

She raised her eyebrows but pulled out three shotglasses and set them in front of me before reaching for the tequila. "Something bad happen?"

I downed the first shot, slammed the glass down, downed the second shot, slammed the glass down, and held the third shot up in a mock-toast. "Here's to getting over it, then having it kick you in the teeth." I downed the third shot.

"What is it?"

"It would be Rich."

Give the woman credit, her only response was the thunk of the tequila bottle as it hit the counter, and a string of curses that would make a grown solider blush. "I thought you two broke it off. You're supposed-"

"-To be madly in love with John."

""I was going to say happy, but that'll work, too."

I smiled and held up one of the glasses. "Can I get another?"

"I want the whole story while you're still pretty much sober."

Damn. I hate when she does this to me. "The team left today for New Hampshire, I got home an hour ago, hit33333333333 the play button on my answering machine, and I had a message from Rich saying he had to talk to me. Said it was urgent, and he gave me his phone number to call him back."

"Did he say why?"

"No."

Caylee picked the tequila bottle up off the counter and filled a new shotglass. "Here."

I smiled weakly and downed it. "Thanks. Cut me off."

She stowed the tequila and pulled a non-alcoholic beer from the refrigerator. "Give me a minute."

Watching as she worked her way down the bar, I sighed and popped the top on the beer. As I downed the first swallow, I wondered which higher power I'd pissed off so severely that I got to have a full-blown Jerry Springer moment.

//And next time on Jerry Springer, gay hackers face off their ex-life partners and the hacker runs off with the new gay cop.//

I set down the beer and wondered if all that tequila was going to my head already. Deciding that the non-alcoholic beer would counter act the effects of the liquor, I finished the beer.

Caylee came back, grabbed me another beer and leaned against the bar. "How are you going to handle this?"

"Shooting Rich sounds like a hell of an option."

"Are you allowed to carry a gun?" Caylee knew about my hacking bust.

"Who said I was going to use a gun? A bow and arrow would be more painful."

"Yeah, but the mess would be hell to clean up."

"Not my area. I don't work forensics."

"Maybe you should talk to John."

My mouthful of beer followed the same path of my coffee from that morning as it was spit across the counter and ran down my chin.

Caylee tossed me a towel and wiped down the bar. "I'm guessing that you're not going to say anything."

"That's really a conversation I don't ever want to have. Especially considering we haven't had a second date yet."

She nodded her understanding and leaned against the bar. "Where's the middle ground?"

I tossed the towel on the counter and looked at her. "What?"

"There's a middle ground that won't make you ecstatic, but it won't make you want to get toasted, either. Where's the middle ground?"

The concept finally broke through the tequila haze that was hovering, and I thought about it. "I could see what Rich wants, and then if it's important enough to warrant a conversation with John, I'll talk to him then. Otherwise, I'll wait until some other time to bring it up."

Caylee smiled at me. "Nicely done. You ready to go home?"

I stood, wavered a bit, and gripped the counter. "Call me a cab."

"They're lined up at the curb. I'm closing down in ten minutes."

Trust Caylee to have a cab outside at closing time. I gave her a smile and walked to the door. Slipping into a cab for the third time that night, I gave my address and leaned against the seat, letting the tequila buzz in my brain.

"This the place?"

I was half asleep and tipsy as I turned my head to see a very nice warped version of my building. Somehow one side was about four stories taller than the other. Amazing things people can do with architecture these days. "Yeah. How much?"

"It's comp. Part of the deal with the city."

"Thanks." I got out of the cab, waved to the driver and stumbled into my apartment. I literally fell into bed and went straight to sleep.

*

"George, you awake?"

Okay, that was odd. I'd never woken up with a hangover headache that talked to me in John's voice. Hell, I've never woken up with a hangover headache that _talked_.

"Georgie, come back to the land of the living."

Okay, either I was hallucinating, or John was on my bed. Oh, John on my bed, now _that's_ a good thought to wake up to. I turned over and squinted at a blurry thing at the end of my bed. "John?"

"And someone went drinking last night."

"What time is it?"

"About ten-thirty." John moved down the bed and laid a hand on my chest. "You okay?"

_Maybe you should tell John._ Caylee's voice went through my head, and for some reason the idea sounded better half-sober than it did when I had been seriously buzzing. "I had tequila last night."

"What happened?"

I took a deep breath and looked up at him. If I was going to say this, I wanted to be able to watch his face. "Rich left a message on my machine last night. He wants to see me. He said it was important."

The hand on my chest tightened slightly, and I saw his eyes darken for a minute. "Are you going to see him?"

Uh-oh, he had a tone in his voice that made me wish I hadn't said anything. "John-"

"Are you going to see him?"

"I think I should."

"Why?"

"Because it could be something that deals with how our relationship turns out."

He pulled his hand back slowly, as if not sure he wanted to touch me. "Why would it affect us?"

I propped up on my elbows and ignored the hangover headache that was trying to lay me out. "Because one of the reasons Rich and I broke up was because he cheated on me."

For a second, John processed, but then I saw the light go on in his eyes. "You think he may have gotten something?"

"I don't know. I just know that we didn't always use protection because I thought he was serious about a monogomous relationship."

The hand came back, but it landed on my cheek this time. "We haven't done anything past kissing and a little bit of groping-"

I cut him off as I snorted at his idea of a _little_ groping. He just smiled down at me and ran his thumb along my cheek. "If something has been passed along, we're get around it."

"John, it's not that easy."

"Not in reality, but right now it is." He stretched out and laid beside me. "I love you, George."

"I love you, John." I meant it. There's something about him that makes me love him through everything. I still get nightmares about how he looked after that case in Boston when he got the shit knocked out of him. I have one where I can't pinpoint the location and he ends up dead. It's a horrible dream, and I know it's just a dream, but I really like the fact that he's beside me right now.

The phone rang, and I groaned as it jarred my headache awake again. John chuckled and reached for the reciever. I gave him a look, but he waved me off. "It's probably Bailey. He sent me to get you up. He wanted to know what you found."

I put my head back on the pillow and let him get the phone.

"Hello?….Just a second." He handed me the phone and looked worried. "It's Rich."

Shit. I took the receiver and wished I could just melt into the mattress. "Hello?"

"What's he doing there?"

Oh, sure, after we call it quits he gets possesive. I could have fun with this. "We went out last night, got wildly drunk and had sex all over the apartment."

John's eyes widened as he listened, and he fell off the bed while trying to muffle his laughter.

"What was that?"

"John tried to stand, but I did so well last night he's having trouble getting his legs underneath him."

"That's not funny."

I was getting slightly angry at his voice. "What the hell do you care? We're not together anymore."

"I never realized I was that easy to get over."

"This coming from the man who cheated on me while we were _together._ Talk about easy." I heard him choke out a response, but stopped him before he could make out anything articulate. "What do you want, Rich?"

"I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I just need to talk to you."

"A minute ago you wanted to talk, now you need to talk. Which is it?"

John had pulled himself up off the floor to sit next to the bed, and he gave me a questioning look as he heard my side of the conversation. I shook my head and held up a hand to ask him to wait in silence.

"What do you want Rich?"

"I want to talk to you. Alone. It's important."

"And if I don't want to talk?"

"This affects you, too."

"Why?"

"Because we were together."

Suddenly my mind is whirling, and I'm wondering if this is the phone call that is going to end at a coffee shop corner booth with Rich telling me he's sick. "Where do you want to meet?"

He breathed a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. "Anywhere."

I glanced to John and saw the confusion mounting on his face. "The fountain in Ever's Park." It had no signifigance in our relationship, and I saw it as a good neutral point.

"Okay. What time?"

The clock by my bed said ten forty-three. "I have to go into work, but I can meet you around three."

"Three's good. I'll see you then."

"Yeah, whatever." I hung up the phone and looked to John. 

"You're going to meet him?"

"Yeah." He looked at me disapprovingly. "Don't do that, John. You know if I don't do this I'm going to worry that maybe I _did_ catch something from him."

"Do you think he was stupid enough not to use protection?"

"I don't know." I stood up from the bed and felt my head start to pound again. "I'm going to shower, and get dressed, and then have some very strong coffee and a couple of asprin, okay?"

John nodded absently and moved to the kitchen. "I'll make the coffee."

The water felt good going over my head as I stepped under the shower nozzle. I just stood for a moment with my palms flat on the tile wall and let my hair get drenched.

I had a dozen different scenarios running through my head, and none of them were good.

_I think I may have something. You need to get tested….I'm sick. Very sick, and I could have given it to you…_

Groaning, I washed my hair harder than necessary, twisted the water off, and wrapped a towel around my waist to go into the kitchen. John handed me my coffee with a smile and a quick squeeze of my shoulder, and I smiled at the domesticness in his actions.

He watched me intensely for a second. "What's with the smile?"

I waved him off. Now was not the time to tell him of my domestic thoughts. "Nothing. Just thinking. I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Okay. Hurry up and get dressed. Bailey called while you were in the shower and wondered what was taking so long."

"What'd you tell him?"

"That you were on the ends of a hangover, and were showering."

"How'd he respond to that."

"Said as long as you were coherent, he'd let it slide. He knew it was supposed to be your day off, so he's not mad."

"Good to hear. I'll go get dressed."

*

Half an hour later, I was sliding into my seat in the command center in khakis, wearing a business shirt and tie. John had tried to get me into a sweater, but I refused on the grounds of not wanting to look to casual when I saw Rich that afternoon.

Bailey nodded to me. "Hot date last night?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask the Tequila bottle."

He smiled and looked at me expectantly. I clicked on my computer and brought up the information I had found. "Only two stores carry the kind of leather used in the killings in New Hampshire. One is owned by Marie Coburn. She's thirty-three, unmarried, and inherieted the business from her father."

"Where's the father?" Sam was staring at the view screen as if it would suddenly start shouting answers.

"His wife died when Marie was three months old and when she hit thirty he ran away to Colorado with Karen Mason, a twenty-two year old looking for an older man. They died in a traffic accident on the interstate on the way to try to reconcile with Marie. She was never a big fan of her dad's new fling.

"Before he left, what was his relationship with his daughter?"

"They were close. Extremely. When Mr. Coburn left, he told her to be a good girl and watch the business. She's stayed with it since, and even had it open the day of the funeral."

Sam nodded and looked up at Bailey. "She did it. Younger women who took away her father's attention made her so angry that she started lashing out at women who reminded her of Karen. Geroge, how long after the funeral did the killings start?"

"A week. Security cameras in the store show Karen Mason coming in and talking to Marie the day before the first killing."

"Seeing the woman who took her father away was the last straw. She snapped." Bailey flipped his pen onto the table. "I'm calling the New Hampshire State Patrol and having this woman picked up. Good work, George."

I nodded and cleared my screens. There went one crisis. Now to get through with the other one. John watched me from across the table and smiled in support before getting up to go talk to Bailey.

The clock on the wall said twelve thirty-one. I had two and a half hours to kill before meeting with Rich. A long lunch started seeming like a great option.

John met me at the elevator. "Where you going?"

"Lunch."

"Want some company?"

"I'm not going to be good company."

He smiled at me. "Neither am I."

We stepped into the elevator and rode up to the street in silence. There's a deli down the street, and we walked in silence. After ordering and sitting down, John looked at me.

"No matter what happens, I'm going to stay by you."

I looked at him, not sure how to respond.

John took a deep breath. "My gut's telling me that whatever Rich has to tell you isn't going to be good news, but I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with whatever happens. I don't think you're sick. I _know_ you're not sick."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. George, before either of us finally realized that our feelings towards each other were reciprocated you were my best friend for a long time, and I've learned to tell when you're feeling sick or when something's wrong. Sometimes I know it before you do."

He does. There are times when he knows something's wrong with me before I acknowledge it to myself. 

"I know that, but I also know that you don't know what Rich is going to tell me. I don't know what he's going to tell me, and until he does tell me whatever the hell he wants to tell me, don't make me any promises." 

John stared at me a moment, probably shocked by the tone of my voice, and finally found the right of mind to nod. "Okay." He reached across the table and squeezed my wrist. "I'm still not leaving."

"That sounds like a promise."

"You're my best friend, I don't leave my friends in the dust."

Somehow, I couldn't find a retaliation to that.

*

The fountain was pretty much deserted when I got there. I didn't expect it to be swarming with people; it was the middle of the day; all the adults were at work and all the teenagers were in school or just getting home.

I sat on the edge of the fountain and let my head rest in my hands as I tried to figure out whey I'd agreed to meet Rich. Somewhere in the back of my head a little voice was reminding me of my worries of Rich having something, but the rest of me was yelling that I could have forced him to tell me over the phone. Why I hadn't gone for the phone option, I didn't know.

"George, you came."

Rich stood to my left, adjusting his glasses on his face and smiling warmly. Two months ago, that smile would have had me smiling back and giving him a hello kiss. Right then, I felt like blacking his eye.

"What did you want, Rich?"

He didn't seem to notice the shortness in my tone. "How have you been?"

"Well, I came home from work last night to find a message on the machine from my ex telling me he had important news. That led me to a bar, which gave me a hangover until I was handed the phone this morning and discovered it was the same ex who was trying to make me meet him someplace to talk. What do you want, Rich?"

This time his eyes widened at my tone. "I just had to ask you something."

"What?"

He suddenly looked very nervous and stared at the fountain as it shot up water. "I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks, and I need to know."

Part of my brain registered that what he was saying didn't sound like bad news. At least not yet. "Know what, Rich?"

"Do we have a chance to reconcile?"

I stared at him a minute, not sure I had heard right. "What?"

Rich looked to me and tried to smile. "I want to try it again, George. I think we can be together again."

Yes, I had heard right. And now I had to find a proper response. "I don't." Okay, that was straightforward enough.

"You don't?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"Because last time wasn't so hot."

Rich blinked and adjusted his glasses. "What was wrong with last time?"

"Other than the fact that you screwed around-literally-not a damned thing." I felt my patience slipping. He had drug me out here in the middle of the day for something as trivial as trying to reconcile. "We're not good for each other, Rich."

"Why not?"

"Because you aren't comfortable in a monogamous relationship, and I don't want to share who I'm with with anyone else."

"George-"

"No." I stood up and got ready to leave. "I got a call this morning that had you sounding nervous and frightened. I spent the entire morning worrying that somehow you had been enough of a jackass to not use protection and get something that could kill you, and you had possibly passed it on to me. If for no other reason than that I don't want to see you again. Goodbye, Rich." I turned away from him and walked off.

John leaned against a lamppost at the edge park, and he watched me carefully as I walked towards him. "Well?"

"He tried to reconcile. I turned him down."

John smiled and slipped an arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the park. "Any particular reason why? He seems like a nice enough man to be around."

"Be around, sure. Be with, no." I reached a hand up and quickly squeezed John's fingers on my shoulder before tucking my hands into my pockets. "I found someone better."

He smiled again, widely and with genuine pleasure in his eyes. "So it's Good riddance, Rich?"

"Good riddance and good luck to the next guy who falls for him."

We walked the rest of the way to my house in silence.


End file.
